


The Fairy King

by FedoraSpooky, MysticDoodle, Whispatchet



Category: A Hat in Time (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:55:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24380896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FedoraSpooky/pseuds/FedoraSpooky, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticDoodle/pseuds/MysticDoodle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whispatchet/pseuds/Whispatchet
Summary: One should not tread lightly in the realm of the fae, nor make contracts without thought.
Comments: 25
Kudos: 124





	1. Changeling Child

Princess Vanessa was alone. It was a wretched way to be. Prince Luka, whom she was due to marry very soon, was away, studying. She hated it. She hated the long months her beloved prince spent away at school, spending time with not only the other students, some of whom would have been girls, but the private tutor he had. A _woman_! Tutoring him one on one!

When he visited all he could talk about was his schooling, too. He used to write her poems, and play the violin for her, but now he simply jabbered on about laws and rules, and the other things that they filled his head with over there. They were to be king and queen! What did rules and laws matter to them, when they could rewrite them!

No, she did not like this at all. She didn't want to lose her precious prince to some foreign woman! To _any_ woman! She would lock him in the cellar if she could!

She needed something to make him stay, some other lure, seeing as her beauty and grace were clearly not enough. They would be married on midsummer's eve, after he had finished his lessons, but that was almost a whole year away, and she couldn't wait! Never mind that her mother was becoming frail, and she had wanted to marry before she became queen...

The thought that occurred to her surprised her. Her mother was going to die, and she was going to die soon. She could just as easily fall down some stairs and do herself in at any moment. They had grieved this point already. Her father had already passed on, having perished in a war when she was very small. So, Vanessa would become queen when her mother died. 

Luka would have to come back from that stupid school for the funeral. And for her coronation. And he would stay to console her over her mother's death! He would stay until they married, he would become king, and never leave her again.

At least, that was what she had thought.

It had hurt more than she had expected, when she had given her poor mother that push down the stairs, and watched her head crack open on the stone steps. But he had come rushing back from school when the news reached him, and she could cry out her grief at her mother's death into Luka's chest.

But then he left again. After staying for the funeral, and watching the bittersweet moment that she became queen, he only stayed with her for another two months. He seemed determined to finish his damned classes! And worse still, his last letter said he would have to go back after their wedding, to make up what he missed!!

What was it going to take for him to abandon them?! He loved his so-called responsibilities.. More than he loved her!!

Desperate, the young queen started combing through her libraries. The one at the manor was more Luka's library than hers, she had never been one for reading. But there were libraries of mages and wizards across the kingdom that she would give herself access to. A charm, a potion, a spell, _anything_!

Or perhaps… a fairy.

An old book she found spoke of the fae, the mysterious and powerful creatures that ruled a realm that ran as a neighbour to theirs. There were specific locations where you could cross between the two worlds, and if the conditions were right, you might be able to make a deal with these magical beings.

And as luck would have it, there was one of those locations in the very forest that surrounded her manor. And if she were to take a lock of Luka's hair, and a lock of her own, the fairies there might give her a baby.

A baby! Oh _of course!_

Her darling prince loved children, and she was sure he would have loved one of his own. She would need to come up with an excuse for why she never seemed pregnant, but he would believe it. And this time he would stay for sure, knowing how his poor beloved had to grow up without a father. He would never want to do that to his own child!

Though she hated to part with the lock of his hair she had kept under the bed, the queen took the small bundle of brown hair, and carefully took scissors to her own blonde locks, before slipping out into the forest after dark.

The place was surprisingly easy to find. A tall tree surrounded by glowing mushrooms, described in the book as 'fairy rings'. How curious these fae were. But, if they would give her the means to keep her prince at home, then she would pay it no mind. She placed the offerings of fruit as instructed, and stepped between two lanterns.

Honestly, she had not been expecting much of a reaction, but what she got did put her somewhat at ease that this would work.

As she crossed the threshold she had created, the forest became purple. The verdant trees and grasses turned eerie, with strange walking bushes and curious glowing foxes moving between the woods. She was approached by a curious figure, wearing red and carrying a walking stick, with a white mask hiding their face. They were most polite, as was fitting when speaking to a queen.

When he asked her why she had come to visit, she showed the passage in the book and asked for a child to take home. The figure pondered it, and after considering the two small bunches of hair in her palm, agreed. But Vanessa would have to uphold her end of the bargain; the child must be cared for and raised wise and strong, as when she was grown, she would be a fae queen, and reign for a thousand years.

She agreed. She could take care of a child, especially with Luka and all the servants to assist. It sounded like a trifling thing in exchange. The blonde and brunette locks of hair were taken from her palm in the figure's two black fingers, and he buried them in a small hole in the earth. The queen watched in wonder as a plant sprouted from the very spot, growing rapidly into a flowerbud that could easily been the size of her head. 

The bud drooped to the soil under its own weight, and bloomed there, with a sleeping baby nestled inside the purple petals. Indeed, it was a healthy looking child, who looked so much like she could have been the blood child of her prince, the same brown hair and beautiful skin.

Vanessa took this child back to her manor, out of that strange fairy realm, and immediately had word sent that she had given birth to a daughter. Luka had frantically returned, just as she planned, and when questioned, she told him she had not wanted him to see her unseemly and round with child. He told her it wouldn't have mattered.

It worked exactly as planned. Luka suspended his studies, and stayed with her in the manor, and when the day of their wedding came, the baby Harriet was dressed in a tiny purple gown, held in the arms of a nursemaid.

Vanessa had everything she wanted. 

For now.


	2. Breaking Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Non graphic description of child murder  
> I died inside a little writing this I am so sorry TT_TT

Being Queen was awful. Meetings, dinners, parties, decisions, there was so much to do. They were so busy, especially now with the baby, that they hardly got to see each other at all! It was easier when she was little; she spent a lot of time sleeping. And when she needed to be fed, she was content with bottle, no matter who was holding it. Though she had to admit, Luka did look adorable, feeding her. It almost made Vanessa want to have a real baby.

Almost, but not quite.

As the baby grew into a charming toddler, Vanessa realised that she was seeing less and less of Luka. Never mind their royal duties, all their personal time was spent playing with the child. Teaching the child. Looking out for the child. Luka was here and hers. But… It felt more like he was Harriet's.

She tried to palm her off on servants, give them time together. Which worked occasionally, but Luka wouldn't let it happen too often. He didn't want to be an absent father, which had been one of the very things Vanessa had hoped for. He would play with the girl of an evening, sing her lullabies and read her stories, before tucking her into her bed. It made Vanessa  _ livid. _

Harriet had turned three. The tiny girl was becoming more and more needy. No longer sleeping as much, eating a lot more, and getting into a lot more trouble, the tiny creature would trot around in her favourite purple dress, brown hair tied up in a ponytail, pulling her doting father along on her adventures.

She sought them out after a particularly stressful meeting with some dignitaries. They were in the garden, sitting under a canopy that was covered in late summer vines. A dainty tea set was out on the table between them, and they were chatting cheerfully while they snacked on scones and drank tea. She heard Luka call her his 'princess'.

Something in Vanessa broke.

She flew at the father and daughter in a rage, screaming profanities at the top of her lungs. She grabbed the child by the throat, and while he tried to intervene, he found himself snagged by two guards and pulled away from his wife and daughter.

He screamed as he was dragged away, begging Vanessa to not hurt the child but it only made her more angry. She scooped up a knife. The sky overhead was turning black.

Luka had been pulled out of sight before the blade struck, but the child's screams echoed down the corridors of the manor after him. By the time he had been shackled to the wall, it had fallen silent. 

He had shouted and screamed until his voice broke, struggling against his chains until he dislocated both his shoulders. Exhausted, he lay limp in his bonds, weeping. His body betrayed him after a time, heart broken, head hurting, an unnatural cold stinging his skin. He blacked out, tears freezing on his cheeks.


	3. The Man That Would Be Their King

He didn't know how long he had been hanging from this wall. When he had regained consciousness the first time, he'd had the energy to fight and shout and struggle until he had exhausted himself again, but the second time, he didn't. All he could do was sob.

The whole thing felt wretched. He didn't know what had come over Vanessa… she had been hysterical.  _ Insane. _ Why would she have… how  _ could _ she have….. Their poor beautiful daughter…

She visited him just once. And Luka was utterly shocked at what he saw. What had once been his beautiful queen was now a hunched crone, hands like gnarled black talons, blonde hair matted and dirty. She reeked of blood and snow, and watched him with a deranged red gaze.

She told him she had done it for him! How the 'fake' child had been corrupting him. She had meant to save him from her! She cooed at him, told him she would let him out when he promised to never leave, when she was sure he wasn't going anywhere.

He refused. He lost his temper and told her he hated her. He cursed her. He kicked at her when she drew close. He could never be with someone that would murder their own child.

She left him alone after that.

He was smart enough to know that she intended for him to starve to death. It was not going to be a comfortable way to die. At least the child had the mercy of a swift death. Still, he didn't find that to be of much comfort. She had still died scared and in pain… at the hands of someone she trusted.

The next time he regained consciousness, he had another visitor. Though this one was not someone he recognised. Face covered by a white mask, they said they were there to make a deal. In exchange for his freedom from the cellar, the mysterious figure wanted… his name. 

He'd given his name for a number of reasons before, but to earn the aid of a stranger was a new one. He mostly didn't feel like he deserved freedom, but his self preservation instincts had not yet atrophied. And while he knew of the fae legends as most people in his kingdom did, he was not in the right state of mind to realise that this masked person was a wily fairy. He willingly told the strange figure his name.

They nodded, and reached into their backpack, pulling out a small purple berry. He put it to the doomed man's lips and told him to eat it. Completely unsure how that was supposed to help, he hesitated. But he was starving, and so any reluctance was short lived. He ate it so quickly he didn't even commit its taste to memory. 

He wouldn't wonder for long what the berry was for. A heavy fatigue washed over him as it settled in his stomach, and for the few short moments before the world vanished, he thought he had been poisoned. Faster than starving to death, he supposed. He offered a small sigh, before closing his eyes and letting it happen.

But, he had not been poisoned. He was pleasantly surprised to learn this when he opened his eyes again, looking up at the sky, laying in a patch of soft, purple coloured grass. 

The masked figure was sitting on a tree stump nearby, beside a larger stump that served as a table, complete with afternoon tea, set for three. There was another figure at the tree table with him, a blue skinned man with a head the shape of the crescent moon, who… seemed to be wearing his clothes?!

He looked down at himself in shock, and he was indeed stripped down to his braes, which were far dirtier than he thought was comfortable. Or dignified. The other thing he noticed were strange red stitches in his arms, just below the biceps. They didn't hurt, though it was almost as if the skin itself had been darned as though it were worn cloth. Through the stitches he could see dead, frostbitten flesh; black and foul.

The crescent man told him he took his clothes in exchange for stopping his arms from falling off. He had assumed that the former prisoner would not have minded. He had to admit that the assumption had been correct. If he had to choose between his clothes or his arms, keeping his body whole was easily the better choice. Though he would have liked to have been asked first.

The masked man bade him to join them for tea.

He wished he had something to wear. He felt downright slovenly as he pulled off the grass, and moved slowly over to a third tree stump, sitting down and casting his eyes over the tea, cakes, and sandwiches on offer. They were the most amazing colours, the likes of which he had never seen food be before. The crescent man poured a cup of tea from the silver teapot, placing the cup and saucer in front of him, along with a small pitcher of pale blue milk and a bowl of silver-white sugar cubes.

He put two cubes of sugar and a splash of milk into his tea, stirring it more than it really required. The mundanity of the action was calming. Sipping at the now vaguely purple tea, he brightened. It tasted like rose and lavender, and spread a warmth through him that made his body tingle pleasantly.

The masked man put a sandwich onto the plate in front of him, with blue bread and some sort of orange filling, telling him he was free to enjoy whatever he wished from their table. They knew he was hungry, after all. The speed at which the sandwich vanished made the crescent man giggle.

He was served another, which was nibbled at far more slowly, bashfully. He thanked the strangers for their help and their food, for it was far more than he thought he deserved. He didn't know how to thank them properly, he didn't even know their names.

The masked man nodded, and said that was fairly normal for their kind. Names, that is,  _ true _ names, held too much importance, and so they were not usually given as freely between fae as they were between humans.

He paused mid mouthful.  _ Fae?!  _

He looked down at the food in horror. The stories of the fairy folk were varied and often conflicting, but, there were some things that they agreed on with remarkable clarity: do not intrude on their territory without an offering. Do not accept their deals or contracts unless you are sure the wording cannot be twisted against you. Do not eat their food when offered, lest all mortal food turn to ash in your mouth thereafter. Do not eat their food on the sly, or be trapped in their realm for the rest of your days.

And never tell a fairy your name.

The crescent man chided his companion gently. Now their guest was all worked up and frightened! Hardly the correct mindset for mutually beneficial business endeavours. The masked man shrugged apologetically. The frightened human could only whimper. What did the two fae want with him?

The crescent man poured him some more tea. They had a bit of a dilemma. A contract of theirs had gone foul… and the result was a corrupted winter, spreading across the landscape both in their realm and in his. The masked man swept a hand over their guest's teacup, and an image appeared on the warm beverage's surface. An unsettlingly familiar one. The masked man nodded, seeing the recognition in his eyes.

They asked him to contain the corruption, and protect everything from the spreading ice.

He slumped in his seat. He couldn't, he told them. He had not been able to protect his daughter from her, and yet they were asking him to protect the whole world? What chance did he have against that kind of magic?

They would not be so foolish as to entrust the world to someone powerless, they assured him. This kind of thing required the power of a Fairy Monarch. The crescent man pulled a small golden brooch out of his newly obtained jacket pocket, and placed it on the table between them. It was delicately carved with an ornate crown emblem, one that he didn't recognise from any of his travels.

He looked between the two fae men with an expression of utter bafflement.

Fae could die just as humans could, to assassin or accident, depending on the contracts that built their forms, they explained. Their last monarch had met something of a messy fate, and they had been searching for another. Their preferred candidate had been fairy born, but had met an unfortunate end before she came of age.  _ He _ on the other hand…

He tried to object as the implication struck him. He was human! How was he supposed to be a Fairy King, with power enough to contain the deadly winter spreading from his wife's corruption? For all his experience in royal courts, and his studies in law and contracts, he'd be helpless against it!

The masked man pulled out a long roll of parchment and a beautiful red feather quill. If they wrote the right contracts, he told him, fae could make even the poorest man rich, and the weakest man strong. And with the monarch's crown on his head, the fairy realm itself would award him even greater strength.

He stared at the image of what had become of his wife on the surface of his tea. She had killed their daughter, and tried to kill him too. She had become heartless and corrupted, and now threatened the whole world. He'd never been able to stand up to her before.

He grasped his teacup in both hands and drained it, swallowing hard. He looked up at the two fairy men that had brought him to tea, and told them he had made up his mind.

The crescent man stood from his seat, and pulled a large sewing needle from his coat. In a single sweeping motion, he threaded it with a glowing purple thread, before turning to face the man that would be their king.

He was simply told to hold still.


	4. Personal Contract of Power

When he looked back over it all, his memory from the moment that large needle plunged into his chest to the moment he regained control of his limbs was distorted and fuzzy, like a memory of a dream from too long ago. It had hurt? Maybe? But it also felt so comfortable. Perhaps there had been some sort of drug in the food after all.

When his senses returned to him properly, he was panting hard, laying face down in the soft grass. 

He could hear the masked man and the crescent man talking around him, the masked man praising the crescent man's handiwork. The crescent man sounded appreciative of the praise, though also sounded distinctly exhausted; whatever he had done seemed to tire him greatly. That made two of them.   
  
He shuddered a little, and pushed himself up off the grass, putting a hand to the side of his head.

His body felt… strange. If one overlooked the heavy fatigue, he almost felt… light. Looking himself over, he was regrettably still bare of clothes, even more so than before, his discarded underclothes on the grass nearby. But it didn't leave him indecent, thankfully. His body was smooth, essentially featureless, and was the same black purple as the thread the crescent man had used. He stared at his hands in amazement for what must have been a few minutes at least.

He jumped slightly when a piece of parchment was slipped in front of his vision. He blinked at it dumbly, before realising that it looked like… a contract of some sort.

The masked man was holding it, his red feather quill in his other hand. While his verbal agreement was sufficient for the first stage of his transformation, he explained, they liked to do things formally, with no hidden surprises, when it came to the matter of their monarchy. It was atypical of their kind, but choosing a king or queen was not something to take lightly. They didn't want to look for another in any short order.

He frowned, but took the scroll in both hands. Before looking over it, he looked between the two fae. It didn't make sense to him. Why spend all this time and effort giving him the power to do this, when they both seemed so powerful themselves. Why not one of them be king?

The crescent man pulled a face at the thought. They were nobles of the previous court. The fairy realm would never accept them. New rulers always came from outside the court. It was the way it had always been and the way it always would.

That also didn't make sense to him. But they assured him that in time, the whims of the fairy world would become clear. If it wished it. If it liked him.

The pair urged him to read his contract carefully, but quickly. The air was already starting to chill, snow starting to fall in the nearby trees.

He frowned, but looked over the contract in his hands. It spoke of his responsibilities and duties, his obligations to fairy law. His agreement regarding the corrupted contractor was also included. And finally, there was a list of rather… peculiar restrictions that were being placed upon him. Many of them lined up with the fairy legends that he knew, but...the colour blue made him vulnerable? What was that all about?

The crescent man and masked man had both sat back at the tree stump table, and were casually sipping their tea. The crescent man explained in a tired voice that all fairies had their weaknesses, buried in their personal contracts of power. It was why you never showed your personal contract to another; clauses designed to protect you against those that were there when you signed it would do nothing against someone that saw it later.

The thought alarmed him. True, they had made it very clear that fae could die, but to have fatal weaknesses laid out on paper?! It felt like a disastrous thing to simply declare, even if you did keep it secret. Why write any in at all?!

The masked man shook his head. No creature is invulnerable, he explained. And the contracts would bestow no power if one had no frailties to balance. It was why they listed so many for him; he would be granted more powers in return. The fae realm liked to keep things in balance.

He was far beyond the point of apprehension, given what he had already endured in this exchange. But the thought of a universe that  _ actually  _ had preferences and whims as if it were a living entity, was extremely off putting. Hopefully the hidden world of the fae folk would, as the nobles had put it, like him well enough, and that he did not offend it in any way.

It gave new meaning to several common phrases uttered among human kind. This universe presumably  _ could  _ hate someone, he supposed.

The masked man and the crescent man watched his eyes roam over the remainder of the written words, and linger at the bottom, where the signature line sat. The terms seemed reasonable enough, for a magical contract that would lock him into a magical reign for the next millennium. All that remained was to sign it. The masked man offered his red feather quill, which he took in his new purple fingers, and moved to sign his name.

But then he stopped. 

He felt a little dizzy as he tried to remember how to write his name. He couldn't think of how his signature even looked, let alone what letters were in it. Why? Had he hit his head? Was it something the crescent man or the masked man had do-

Ah.

He looked back up at the two nobles. How was he meant to sign the contract, when the masked man had taken his name from him? The masked man simply served himself a small cake, not seeming the slightest bit perplexed by the question. He had  _ given _ it, he hadn't taken it. To imply any different was rather rude.

The pair chuckled at his flustered apologies. 

The advice they gave was rather simple: draw whatever came to mind on the line. The humans relied on words and names, but when it came to fae, they could be a little more… creative. After all, even when you had a name, you didn't especially want people knowing it, lest they use it against you.

He frowned, but then looked around for some inspiration. His eyes rested on the impossibly large tree in the centre of the clearing. It was hollow, with large openings on each side, that vaguely looked like a face. It reminded him of the faces they carved into pumpkins with the seasons changed. 

After thinking about it for a few moments, he put the quill to the paper, and drew a smiling face, with two large eyes, and two small fangs protruding from the top of the open mouth.

As soon as he lifted the quill from the parchment, his new 'signature' complete, he felt a shudder that started deep in his core. The crescent man stood from his seat and stepped close, the crown embossed brooch in his hand. He said something that he didn't quite understand, and pinned the small golden object directly into his purple flesh. Oddly, it didn't hurt.

The strange shudder was joined by a warmth. A hand went to his chest, and he watched in amazement as the golden object soaked into his purple skin, as if it were spun sugar dissolving in water. He wrapped his arms around himself and slammed his eyes shut as the shuddery feeling spread down to his toes, and the warmth swirled around in his belly before swelling up his back and into the back of his head. He could hear the crescent man continuing to speak, but the words were lost on him.

He drew in a deep breath, and let it out in a sigh. As he did so, a wave of warmth washed over the area, the approaching snow halting and starting to melt.

When he next opened his eyes, they glowed gold.


	5. Fell From The Sky

Hundreds of years saw the Subcon Forest develop a reputation. The kingdom that had once sat at its heart died overnight, and the woodland that surrounded it became distinctly inhospitable to outsiders.

From the outside, it looked like a normal forest; green, leafy canopy, birdsong in the air, little woodland creatures scurrying about in the undergrowth. Once you head inside though, the green colour fades away, revealing a haunting, almost sickly purple. And there was no birdsong, no cheerful woodland critters. Instead, there was the eerie giggle of children on the stale air, and the purple leaves rustled with the movement of giant spiders moving through the canopy.

It was a clear night, and the breeze had the faintest warmth to it. The master of the forest was in a good mood, floating between the trees towards his home, having just dumped the lifeless body of the latest intruder to his territory into the swamp. It never ceased to amaze him how people could continue to waltz in, no offerings, no manners, and expect to get what you came for. Least of all from him.

He settled into his comfortable chair and picked up a book, rather satisfied with the day's efforts. If he was lucky, the humans and other mortal folk would see sense enough to leave him alone for a while. He was really enjoying this book, and he'd like to read it without interruption, thank you so very.

He was graced with an hour, at best.

A shudder went up his back, paired with a soft 'whump' sound, right outside his door. The shudder was more familiar than he would have liked; the feeling when a mortal had stepped inside a fairy ring. Though it being the ring around his home was new… most people couldn't get this deep into the forest without tripping into one of the other rings he had set up as traps between the trees.

Putting down his book, he peeked out. He spotted the small figure easily, starting to trot away from his tree rather than towards it. A cursory glance around and he couldn't see any offerings, as _usual,_ so the disrespectful little thing had written their death warrant. He sighed, and slipped out of his tree, nodding at the little servant of his that was sitting by the path.

The small creature jumped up from where it was relaxing, and bounced around to get the intruder's attention, and when she followed curiously, it dashed off down the path, towards a waiting trap. 

It worked a treat (the ACME comics he had stolen were good for at least some amusing ideas) and in less than a minute, the intruder was bundled up in a sack, high in the trees. He chuckled as he slid closer, giving his minion an affectionate pat on the head as a reward.

As he was about to get to his own business, another minion spoke up. "Boss! Boss!" It squeaked. "She fell from the sky!"

He paused, claws hardly an inch away from the cloth of the sack. He looked down at the little creature he had made. "...Fell from the…?" He turned his golden eyes up, through the canopy and mist to the sky above. There had been a few things falling from the sky lately, and frankly, he hadn't been too impressed. He couldn't contract bind or kill weird hourglasses, even if they did fall in his fairy rings or rudely clock him in the back of the head.

The occupant of the sack was putting up a solid fight, knocking at the sides, swinging it back and forth in an attempt to get free. A fall from this height would ordinarily kill someone, or at the very least break a lot of their bones. But if this intruder fell from the sky, the fall would likely not be too much of a worry. So without any further hesitation, he took a claw to the sack, cutting the cloth, sending the small intruder tumbling to the forest floor below.

She stumbled her landing a little and landed on her rear on the dirt path, a small "Oof!" passing her lips that made him pause. It sounded like a kid. Much as the court hated it, he tended to be a little lenient towards children. Especially little ones, too small to know any manners yet. And if those old farts wanted to do something about it they were damn welcome to try. He hadn't survived six assassins and three hundred years for nothing.

As she stood and brushed herself off, looking around, he caught his first look at her face.

The air became suddenly rather chilly.  
" _H..harriet…?_ " He breathed.

The girl hadn't noticed him, floating high above her, as she was instead giving the minion she had chased an earful about how rude it had been to snatch her in a trap like that.   
He started to panic. He couldn't… let her see him like this! He'd scare her! His.. d…

"Sorry kid!" His minion was saying, not sounding at all sorry. "Them's orders!"  
"Orders?" She wondered in return. "From who?"

He looked down at her, still unnoticed. He shook his head harshly, trying to clear it. It _couldn't_ be her. She was _dead._ And even if she had survived, it had been hundreds of years. She was dead, this wasn't her. Some ten year old kid or whatever… just.. looked and sounded...

He grit his fanged teeth and made a sweeping gesture with a claw, pulling the shadows around the child, separating her from his servant and into a pocket dimension. He couldn't stand to look at her. He would have to end this quickly. Child or not.

It would be faster if he didn't have his own contract making him put on a show for the poor sap. _Always attack from the front._ Peh. The masked man really did have a penchant for making things complicated.

Putting on perhaps a little more enthusiasm than usual- for his own sake rather than hers -he made his appearance. He rose out of the ground in a black mist, claws out, fangs bared.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! _FOOOOOOOOOOL!!!_ " He boomed, trying to not notice how she jumped and looked up at him, eyes wide as saucers, jaw slack in awe. "You _blew it!_ You TOTALLY screwed yourself! Nobody enters my home and leaves in one piece!!" He sneered down at her, forcing as much bravado into the performance as he could to cover up how just looking at her made his heart hurt. Come on you dope, kill her and be done with it!!

She… wasn't afraid of him.

He could see it in her blue eyes. She was surprised, sure, but didn't seem especially concerned about her impending doom as it stood looming over her.   
Thrown a little, he kept talking, words falling out of his mouth before he could really stop himself. 

"........Tell you what though… Hang on a minute..." _What are you doing?_ "You get to live! Aren't you lucky!!"

He watched the girl's expression brighten a little. Damn it… he usually would just scare kids and maybe make them do chores a bit before letting them go. He was going to give _this_ one an adult's treatment but seems he couldn't help but pull the same lenient script out after all.

"Normally," He told her, internally cursing himself. "I'd just eat your soul and toss your body, but I just happen to need a brain-dead servant."

The brightness in the girl's expression faded into an unimpressed huff. "A servant? Really?"

Kids didn't _usually_ interrupt his monologue. " _Really._ " He growled back. "The last one got himself killed… his head popped off! So now I need a new towel boy."   
"I'm a girl!"   
He tsked at her retort. "Whatever." He made a sweeping gesture in the air in front of her, pulling out of the shadows a roll of parchment and a black feather quill. 

He'd gotten rather good at conjuring these contracts by now. It was pretty simple to throw together a chores list for the intruders he trapped. He hardly even needed to think about what went in them, any more. "Tell you what. I have a piece of paper here… don't worry about the details…" Kids usually hated reading anyway. "I just need you to sign… right here at the bottom."  
  
He watched her take the contract in hand and read it. She arched a brow at some of the chores he had put in there, and looked up at him. "You want me to murder some spirits?"  
He offered a giggle. "Yup!" Frankly the Fires Spirits were more annoying than dangerous, he'd had kids deal with worse.

"....What if I say no?"

Of course she was going to argue about it. It couldn't be _easy_ getting rid of someone with his daughter's face, now could it. "Come on now, don't make this difficult." He huffed at her. "You don't really have a choice in this. It's you or them, so sign the paper."

She didn't look impressed, but she picked up the quill anyway. She wrote on the line, and held it out for the specter to take, which he did. A golden stamp landed in his hand out of thin air, and he stamped his seal at the bottom in a dark purple wax, signing it himself. "That seals the deal!" He declared, rolling up the parchment. "We're in business." He gently tapped her on the head with the rolled up paper. "Let me just… grab this real quick."

The child squirmed a bit as he pulled her soul straight out of her body. She winced as she watched it float away, a certain emptiness falling into her vibrant blue eyes. 

"Whoops!" He chuckled. "Guess this soul belongs to me now!"  
The roll of the girl's eyes was somewhat off putting.

"Oh don't give me that look!" He retorted. "If you finish your chores quickly, you'll have your soul back in no time!" He gave her another peal of laughter, and dove into the ground out of sight, returning her to the forest.

He stayed hidden as he watched his newest contractor trot down the path, complaining about 'dumb ghosts' all the way. He sighed to himself as she slipped out of sight between the trees. Hopefully she'd leave quickly. 

Though he suspected not.


End file.
